The Holmes Next Door
by MiaCarsson
Summary: Sherlock and John have a new neighbor at 221 baker street; Alisha Bennet-a failing journalist with career going backwards who really needs her big break. While Ali avoids her boss Elise. She accidentally stumbles onto the story of her life.
1. Who's Sherlock?

The day I met Sherlock Holmes began like any other. I swatted my alarm when it woke me at eight and mooched down stairs in my pyjamas to make myself a cup of refreshing coffee. I breathed in the caffeinated fumes a s I whipped the gradually cooling liquid into a whirlpool. The high pitched rap on metal on metal signalled the arrival the morning post. A quick round-a-bout circuit of steps collected my mail and found me sitting, knees up to my chest on the sofa. Flicking through the paper stack and sorting out the junk mail from the important mail-well I say sorting, it more consisted of me throwing anything boring over my shoulder, than any actual organisation.

My mobile vibrated like a minor earthquake on the glass table. The caller ID flashed on the screen, Rowan. My sister had moved out a couple of months ago and the house still felt eerily empty. I stared at the phone at it made its way across the table. It fell still and Rowan's voice grated through the speaker, "Alisha I know you're there, you haven't left the house in a week and I can see the mess from here!"

I reached for the phone with a sigh, "Rowan, you're on the phone you idiot."

"Well I can visualise can't I?"

I put on my best no-nonsense attitude and followed her comment up with, "What do you want?"

"Well that's just rude."

"I'm very busy."

"I'm sure," she retorted, sarcasm rolling over her words like waves, "Come out to lunch with me, I'm fairly certain you won't have eaten properly without me around to make you."

"Sushi?" I asked as if the whole arrangement depended on her answer and I knowing full well she hated sushi couldn't have predicted her answer.

"Yeah fine, at two?"

"Ok…" I said, puzzled, "I have some stuff to do first though so I've got to go."

"Ok, bye."

I clicked of the phone call, not bothering to reciprocate her good-bye. I looked down at the cereal packet watch wrapped around my wrist. "Quarter to nine," I muttered into the silence. I should probably think about getting ready I thought.

After a quick shower I buddle myself up in soft white towel, toga style I smiled to myself as the thought passed through my mind. I let my hair fall into loose rings about shoulders, it's almost ebony colouring complementing my caramel complexion.

I dried my hands and flipped open my laptop, a few clicks opened up itunes and I scrolled down through my playlists to find the perfect song. Domino by Jessie J caught my eye and I immediately selected it and flew over to my wardrobe to select my outfit. The song finished and turned to choose another. A blank word document was on the screen it's cursor flickering in anticipation, but I had nothing to offer it.

As if on some deadly cue my phone buzzed for the second time that morning. I let it ring, no voicemail. I relaxed a little but no sooner had it stopped than it started up again. I resolved to switch it off. It's screen went black and I grinned, not today, deadlines were not going to spoil today. I changed the song to Rizzle Kicks' Mama do the hump and Pulled on a dress with a slightly African print and bright bold colours. I smiled, at myself in the mirror, glanced at the make-up momentarily but decided against it. I ran my fingers through my still damp hair as a rushed down the stairs, sliding on the carpet. I practically jumped into my gold trimmed ballet flats, grabbed my keys from the work-top and shut the door behind me.

It felt good to be outside for once, it was colder than I remembered, it must have shifted from summer to autumn. I shivered. I don't drive and as anyone who knows me will testify; me and cars _do not_ mix. I thrust my hand into the road, waving it dangerously in the traffic to flag down a cab. A black taxi pulled over and hopped inside glad of the heat, I let it seep into my bones, storing it for later. "Baker Street," I told the cabby when he asked me where I was headed.

I few minutes later I was standing outside a black front door, gold lettering announced it was 221B Baker street. The newspaper advertisement had stated this was where I should find one Mrs Hudson, so here I was. I knocked and few seconds passed by. The comforting sounds of London, babbling in the background.

A man answered the door. He had cropped hair and dark circles under his eyes. I looked him up and down, taking quick notes about him in the back of my mind. He held himself in a military-esque stance. I drew my eyes away towards his face despite my intense curiosity. I'm looking for Mrs Hudson," I told him.

He smiled warmly at down at me, then stepping aside he gestured for me to come in. I stepped past him and into the slightly gloomy hall way. I rotated on the spot, taking in my surroundings.

"Mrs Hudson?" He called.

"I'm coming my dear," she called from deep inside the depths of the rooms.

He turned back to me still smiling, "Are you here to look at the other flat?"

"Yeah, my place's just too big and empty now that Rowan and her snob of a boyfriends have moved out and I think I just need a change of scenery, I get bored quite easily you see. And then of course there's work which is just so much of a pain, my editor's constantly on my case," I paused and cringed slightly, "Sorry over sharing."

"It's fine," he said, "It's nice to know more than Sherlock for once."

"Who's Sherlock?"

"We live just upstairs in 221B."

"OH! Well good for you."

"No, no, we're not a couple, we're just friends."

"Ok, well, I'm Alisha, Alisha Bennet."

He held out his hand in an offer to shake, "I'm John Watson."

A loud crash came from upstairs followed by the distinct sound of muffled gun fire and breaking glass, "And that's my room-mate Sherlock Holmes."

Mrs Hudson bumbled into the room, balancing a tray of tea and cookies, "I brought four cups," she said, "I wasn't sure if Sherlock would want one or not, you never really know with him."

John nodded knowingly, he headed back into the hall and faced up the stairs toward his own flat, "Sherlock!"

"I'm working!" He shouted back.

"Shooting at rotten eggs in empty jam jars is not working!"

"I'm measuring the radius of broken glass from the point of impact, but for you simple minded folk let's just call it an experiment shall we?"

John knotted and un-knotted his finger behind his back in frustration, "There's another potential neighbour down here don't you want to come and evaluate her or something?"

"Why bother she's probably just boring like the others."

"Come down here and find out for yourself."

John spun on his heel and returned to the sofa in 221A. He was shortly followed by a towering and rather intimidating Sherlock with killer Cheekbones and deep eyes. He dropped himself into an armchair and swivelled himself sideways so he could see at me.

Frowning at him briefly, I turned to John, "So are you ex-military or just on leave?"

"What?"

"The way you hold yourself and the way you dress and behave suggests military, please correct me if I'm wrong."

I couldn't prevent a hint of a smile twitching at my lips as I began, "I know you smoke, which by-the-way so do I," I directed this to Mrs Hudson, "I assume it's not a problem." She shook her head slowly so I continued.

"I also know from the way you were clenching your hands that he," I pointed dramatically over to Sherlock, "really knows how to push your buttons."

I smirked, "I can go on if you'd like."

Sherlock pressed his hands together in front of his face almost as if praying, then suddenly he leapt from his seat, "She can stay," he said simply and he swept out of the door like a bat returning to his cave.

John turned to Mrs Hudson in disbelief, "I think that went very well."

I smiled at my two remaining companions, "Where do I sign?"


	2. The Sushi Secret

Chapter Two-Sushi Secret

I signed a few forms, including a ridiculously long document I was informed was a lease for the apartment. I stood up to leave, "I'm sorry but I have to rush off now, I'm meeting my sister for lunch."

Mrs Hudson smiled at me she showed no teeth and with tight lips she seem as if she was only smiling out of politeness, as she had been doing for the past hour, "Well we seem to have everything all wrapped up, so I'll see you tomorrow when you start moving in." She gathered up the cups and plates and swiftly exited the room. Her head reappeared around the painted door frame, "And John," she signalled that she was talking about Sherlock's inevitable mess, looking pointed up at the ceiling, "Not your house keeper."

I too weaved my way through the already furnished room to my new front door but I whipped around when a sudden thought entered my head, "Do you want to come to lunch with me?"

"Sushi?" He asked.

"Actually yeah."

"Great!"

He walked to the outside door, "What about him?" I asked waving my hand in the direction of the stairs.

John began to shake his head, "He doesn't really sociali-"

Sherlock materialised at the head of the stairs. His long dark coat with its collar turned up, framing his face. He was so pale against the darkness, his skin seemed almost luminescent.

"I'd love to come actually."

John raised his eyebrows, incredulous, "Really?"

He nodded, "Getting to know your new neighbours is what average people do isn't it? And i could use the fresh-air."

"You're unlikely to find that in London," I reminded him.

He nodded slowly as if distracted, "One second," he excused himself and bolted off up the stairs in a blur of billowing fabric.

I twisted my head to John, "He always this erratic?"

"Always."

He came storming down the steps, his feet barely grazing the ground, "John."

John turned slowly around, too slowly for the impatient Sherlock, "John!"

"What?"

"I'm out of nicotine patches!" He waved an empty box in John's face, "I have to go shopping right now."

Calm and collected I popped open my hand bag and rummaged around. I tossed my own little box over to him. He caught it easily, staring at it in his hands, he glanced from me to the box and back.

I shrugged, "None of us are perfect are we?" I pointed out, "They're yours now," I added when he still hadn't opened the box.

He tore open the box like a ferocious lion attacking a rabbit. He proceeded to stick not one but two patches on his inner forearm. He sighed as the nicotine seeped into his skin, a half smile slipping onto his face, "Thank you."

John gazed from me to Sherlock and back to me again, shaking his head, "Let's go then."

We arrived shortly at Yoshino, possibly the best sushi place in the whole of London, according to John Watson anyway. Rowan had already claimed us a table although we had to pull over a couple of chairs to the already crowded table since she stubbornly refused to move. Rowan peered at the two men in confusion, "Hi?" She finally offered.

"Hello," John smiled in greeting, "I'm John."

"They're my new neighbours," I explained.

"You're moving?"

"Yeah, I didn't tell you? It's 221A Baker Street."

Her head whipped around to John, "So you live in 221B then?"

He indicated an affirmative answer.

"So you must be Dr Watson then?"

A puzzled look appeared on his face, "Have we met?"

"I read your blog."

He relaxed a little from his concentrated state, "Oh really?"

"Yeah, Sherlock's amazing! Seriously how did he notice that pink suit case?"

John shrugged slightly, but catching Sherlock smirking he tagged on, "Ask him."

Sherlock continued to push a sugar cube around the table with his fork, blindly sketching out the layout of the streets of London in tiny sugary crystals.

Rowan gasped as she caught up, "You're Sherlock Holmes," she burst out.

The dark haired man's eyes flickered up for an instant at the sound of his own name but then quick back again when he realised it was not of interest.

"Right, I'm going to pop to the loo," She pushed away from the table, "Order for me?" she asked as she made her way deeper into the restaurants atmospheric lighting.

I nodded, though I already know she could neither see not hear me.

"How do you know what she wants?" Watson asked me.

I Chuckled, "I'm not a mind reader if that's what you're asking, she just always has the same thing, she's not all that adventurous like I am."

The waitress came and we placed our orders, John ordering some kind of Sushi. "Sashimi," I told her as she scribbled notes on her pad, "and a sprite, I'll just have a diet coke please."

"You're not eating?" John questioned as she walked away, a hint of disapproval in his voice.

I shook my head, "I don't really eat when I'm working."

John rolled his eyes, "Neither does he," he gestured to Sherlock who had not moved to folding the napkins into intricate flowers, lotus' if I wasn't mistaken.

My sister bounced back in to her seat, "What we talking about?" She asked making an effort to jump right back into conversation as quickly as possible.

John gesticulated with his thumbs to either side of him, "these two not eating properly."

"Oh I know!" Rowan's eyes saturated with condemnation, turned to me, "You're not still staring yourself are you?"

"Well I still haven't found a story for Elise have I?" I tried to justify my apparent abstention from food, "I'm not actually starving myself, I'm just not hungry."

She shook her head at me in exasperation.

A young-ish girl with blonde curly hair tied back in bunches delivered us our drinks. She didn't look old enough to be out of school so this must be a part-time job. She put down the last drink rather heavily in front of Sherlock and prodded him sharply with one of her well manicured fingers, "You still haven't found Sunshine," she complained, her crisp voice and rather snobbish attitude suggested she was an upper class child. Her name tag proclaimed her as Lily Harding.

"I told you I'm not taking your case."

"It's well paid," she informed him. I smiled, this confirmed my earlier deduction of her class, only the rich would pay a private detective; the likes of Sherlock Holmes to find a lost pet.

"It's boring," he retorted, I snorted into my coke, the arguing duo stared at me, "Sorry, sorry," I apologised.

They turned back to each other, the determination and stubbornness evident in Sherlock's eyes. The girls shoulders slumped and she stalked away, still carrying her tray.

I twiddled with my straw as silence fell over the table, "Hey what's that?" I asked noticing the corner of a paper envelope peeking out from under one of the restaurants delicately embroidered napkins. I took the paper between my fingers and dragged it towards me, I picked it up and let the napkin fall to the floor.

Scrawled on the front in black italics was the name of a certain detective that just happened to be sitting at this very table. He snatched it from my grasp and a spark of excitement flooded through me as he hesitated before sliding his slender finger into the top and splitting it open.

He tipped the contents out on to the table cloth and spread them apart; a lone key, an old sweet wrapper-crushed in the envelope and a folded piece of paper drifted to the surface. John reached forward carefully to take the note but Sherlock viciously slapped his hand away. His eyes were glittering with intelligence.

He scooped up the contents of the package, placed them in his pocket and swiftly strode out of the restaurant without a word. John looked after him, sighing he pulled on his coat, "I'd better follow him, heaven knows what he'll do next."

I turned to Rowan when I was sure he was out of ear shot, "So what do you think of my new neighbours then?"

She stared down at her plate for a while, I hadn't even noticed it arrive, it must have been sometime in the distraction of the envelope.

"Any thoughts al all?" I pressed when I didn't immediately spark a response.

"That's your story."

"Huh?"

"Sherlock and his new case, that's your big story."

"You think?"

She nodded ecstatically.

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Will you eat something now?" She finally asked.

I looked down at my diet coke and over to John's un-touched food, before divulging, "I don't actually like Sushi."


End file.
